


Dalliance

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [149]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Berry-Picking, Blackberrying, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Open Relationships, Oral Fixation, Secret Relationship, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Summer, Summer Romance, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: “Arthur,” Merlin murmurs in warning. Arthur licks the pad of his thumb, deliberately slowly, looking up at him through the dappled light. Merlin’s eyes are wide and he seems caught off-guard, his expression painfully vulnerable. “You can’t. Not here…”“I’m the king,Merlin,” Arthur murmurs back, releasing Merlin’s thumb to follow the trail down to where the juice had pooled in his palm, moulding his lips to the curve of Merlin’s wrist. “One day you’ll realise that means I can do whatever I want.”MMM 2018 (September) Prompt Day #9.





	Dalliance

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Day 9: Sunday, September 30th**
> 
>  
> 
> Path I: Blackberries [[image](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b7827dab9f0a784c68a91c2b4178a5f1/tumblr_pdng43OKIm1w3cu63o1_1280.jpg)]  
> Path II: Your favourite companionship/bonding moment.

 

Merlin’s fingertips are stained red by the time he’s done, his lips smeared and sticky with juice. Arthur is watching lazily from the shade, one arm tucked behind his head, and so he catches the moment when Merlin jerks back with a tiny gasp, pulling a hand out of the bushes to inspect his thumb.

 

“What happened?” With his free arm, Arthur reaches up and captures Merlin’s wrist, tugging him closer to inspect the wound. “Were you stung?”

 

“Just a scratch.”

 

It’s hard to tell if there’s any blood, so Arthur presses the thumb into his mouth on principle, swirling his tongue to taste the sour-sweet juice from the blackberries that has worked its way into the creases of Merlin’s skin. Merlin goes very still. It hasn’t occurred to Arthur until that moment that they aren’t alone; that this isn’t the usual sort of care for a king—a _married_ king—to show his manservant in regard to such a trivial hurt. But it is also late afternoon, and the rest of their party is scattered amongst the berry bushes, most of them absorbed in their own work and paying him very little attention. The August sun beats down, and even in the shade it is far too hot; those who are not picking berries are dreaming, eyes closed, faces shielded by linen cloths to keep them from the sun.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin murmurs in warning. Arthur licks the pad of his thumb, deliberately slowly, looking up at him through the dappled light. Merlin’s eyes are wide and he seems caught off-guard, his expression painfully vulnerable. “You can’t. Not here…”

 

“I’m the king, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs back, releasing Merlin’s thumb to follow the trail down to where the juice had pooled in his palm, moulding his lips to the curve of Merlin’s wrist. “One day you’ll realise that means I can do whatever I want.”

 

Merlin’s heart is beating very fast; Arthur can feel it, the flicker of the pulse beneath his tongue. “See, I was under the impression that being king meant you could do everything _but_ what you want.”

 

It comes out sharper than he means it to, maybe, and in apology he turns his wrist to give Arthur better access, standing poised while Arthur laps at the mound at the base of his thumb. Arthur can feel him shaking, his breathing shallow and quick, his other hand braced against the tree trunk at Arthur’s back like it’s all that is keeping him upright.

 

“Come on.” Arthur tugs at his belt, making full use of his own weight to coax Merlin into his lap. “No one will see. Or care.”

 

“Not even your wife?” Merlin asks, but he gives in, letting Arthur pull him close. Arthur tips Merlin’s head to the side and nuzzles into the white arc of his neck, letting out a little sigh as Merlin’s hands dig into his hair. Somewhere close, he can hear insects buzzing, their cadence slow and drowsy in the perfect afternoon.

 


End file.
